


The Taste of Freedom

by ARealPip



Series: Trading Bodies [3]
Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: After the Ritz, Aziraphale is an Epicurean, Aziraphale teaches Crowley how to eat, Bodyswap, Crowley eats like a toddler, Cursed Crowley, Domestic Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Food Porn, God's curse of the serpent is real-- Crowley really can't eat anything but dust, M/M, Mutual Possession, Ridiculous amounts of love, Settling in to a new life, Settling in to happily ever after, Working around limits, implied sex, post-cannon, serpent of Eden
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-23
Updated: 2019-10-23
Packaged: 2020-10-29 10:42:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,046
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20795333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ARealPip/pseuds/ARealPip
Summary: Summary of this story:On the second day post-Armageddon, Crowley still hasn't gotten the hang of solid food, but Aziraphale finds a way to treat him to a top notch epicurean experience in the privacy of the bookshop.  Crowley enjoys himself tremendously.Summary of what has come before this story:Aziraphale is amazingly talented at the difficult art of possessing other people and moving souls around.  He not only pulled off the body swap that saved them both, but has managed to figure out a variety of ways to move his soul and Crowley's around between their two bodies.  This has allowed each of them to enjoy earthly pleasures that had not previously been open to them.  Aziraphale, whose body does not experience sexual arousal, has been able to experience sex by borrowing Crowley's body.  Crowley, who was cursed by God to "crawl on your belly and eat dust all the days of your life", has been able to borrow Aziraphale's body in order to eat food for the first time.It's the first Tuesday morning after Armageddon.





	1. Happiest Way to Wake Up

**Author's Note:**

> This is chapters 6 and 7 of Dust Ye Shall Eat
> 
> I wanted to break out these two chapters because they are implied sex/lots of food-porn, and folks who might not want to read explicit stuff might still enjoy this.
> 
> So this is just fluffy body swap food porn. 
> 
> If you want the rest of the story-- see Dust Ye Shall Eat.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crowley wakes up on the second morning of his new life with Aziraphale. Life is very good.

On the second day after the apocalypse, Crowley woke up naked and surrounded by angel. 

The angel was holding him and the angel was also inside of him. Inside of his own chest, next to his heart, a small piece of the angel's soul was thrumming. It felt like birdsong and the way that sunshine dances on water. It felt like the hopeful smell on the morning of the first day when spring turns into summer. Through it, little dancing flickers of joyful angelic thoughts began to illuminate the splendid drowsy darkness of Crowley's mind. 

As he awoke, Crowley could feel strong warm arms around him and the soft tickly scratchiness of the angel's chest hairs under his cheek. The warmth on his other cheek and on his shoulders was from a beam of sunshine. Then he noticed the swirl of scents that the sunshine evaporated from Aziraphale's chest: the angel's cologne, with it's clean spiciness and the barest hint of orange blossoms, the almost human scent of his skin, and then, under it all, the musky smells left over from the night before. 

The little flickers of Azriaphale's thoughts, which had started off as mere sparks of happiness and recognition, started to change as Crowley slowly surfaced from sleep. They started to push into his sluggish soul with little explosions of joyous expectation that let him know that under no circumstances would he be doing any more sleeping on the second day of their new life together. 

The hand that had been shading his eyes from the sunbeam he was basking in suddenly moved and his eyes were blasted by the red light that drilled through the skin of his eyelids. Crowley squinted and twisted his head to bury his face in the angel's chest. He nuzzled it and kissed and tasted the salty traces of the fluids that own body had left here. He felt the tickling in his nostrils as his exhalations rebounded off of the angel's skin. At the back of his neck, he felt a glorious scratching and tugging that almost made him want to stretch his muscles. Inside him, the bright flickers of Aziraphale's thoughts started to coalesce and Crowley came to understand that Aziraphale expected him to get out of bed and go downstairs to answer the door. 

"I'm retired, Angel. I'm never getting out of bed again," Crowley said. He heard his own voice and it sounded warm and content, so whatever venom he had tried to put into his words had ended up sounding like gentle teasing. 

"Well," replied the angel, "Then I suppose you'll miss the lovely brunch I've ordered for you."

Crowley nestled himself deeper into his soft nest of naked body and mattress and pillows. Then the sweet circular scratching of his hair suddenly ceased. The soft body he was lounging on slipped out from underneath him and he was suddenly drowning in a pillow. The bright warm fragment of Aziraphale that was in Crowley's body prodded him with reminders that the exquisite pleasure of eating real food could be his yet again if he would just go downstairs and open the door. 

He raised his head and opened his eyes. Quite unexpectedly, he found himself to be happy. Based on the slant of the sunshine and the sounds coming up from the street through the window, it was clearly before noon, at least by a half hour. On principle, Crowley wanted to be grumpy and sleepy and resentful. But he simply couldn't manage it.

"Why does it have to be me?", he asked. The worst he could manage was to sound curious. 

"Well," replied the angel, "When I called yesterday, I needed to tell them something to explain why all the foods had to be liquids or mushes, so I told them that I was going to be having oral surgery. They were ever so sympathetic. But, of course, on the day after surgery, I would have swelling in my face and so it has to be you that answers the door."

Crowley rolled out of bed, shuffled around the narrow bedroom to find his clothes, and started pulling them on. 

"You ordered my breakfast yesterday?"

"Your brunch, actually. I expected you would sleep late." Aziraphale pulled the curtain back and peered at the street below. "It seems that I didn't wake you a moment too soon." 

The door buzzer rang. Aziraphale took Crowley's sunglasses off of a small table and handed them to him. Crowley padded out of the tiny room and down the narrow stairs. He was barefoot and his shirt was half buttoned and untucked. 

Dust motes danced in the sunbeams coming through the windows of the shop. The threadbare carpets undulated over the familiar unevenness of the old floorboards. As he dodged around piles of books in his bare feet, Crowley could feel subtle curves that he'd never noticed before. When he reached the front of the shop, he found that the patches of sunlight had warmed the soft wood pleasantly, and it was actually a pleasure to be standing in the door of the shop, in the sunshine, on a beautiful late summer morning.

The delivery person was a young woman. Because a piece of Aziraphale was inside of him, Crowley found himself beaming at her. Crowley recognized some of the smells from inside the large paper bag she held out to him. He could detect the warm, rich, spicy-earthy smells of cumin and garlic, mixing with the smells of some oil roasted vegetable. For thousands of years, he had walked the ancient world, smelling these very scents. They were the smells that signified shelter and good company, the human pleasures that he could partake of. He had sat in the corners of warm rooms that smelled like this paper bag, drinking water or beer or wine, and drifting along on the feeling of fellowship that the humans generated while they broke bread together. 

"Hi" said the young woman, as she handed off the bag. She looked him up and down, taking in his rumpled clothes and bedhead. She smirked and then expertly switched a cardboard tray full of drinks and small cardboard bowls from one hand to the other so that she could offer her hand. "I'm Tiffany."

Crowley was a little slow to realize what was happening, but when he hesitated, the angel inside him prodded him and he found himself warmly clasping the woman's hand. 

"Um, Crowley. Anthony Crowley."

It wasn't the earliness of the hour that made him slow. It was the realization of what was about to happen. Crowley was reeling with the thought that he was soon going to taste this food. He would finally know the taste that went with the scent. 

"Nice to meet you, Anthony," she said. "I'm so glad that Mr. Fell has someone to look after him. How is he doing this morning?" 

"Errr, you know, just um, like you'd expect," said Crowley. "He's still in bed."

"Ah," said the young woman, flashing a knowing smile. "Breakfast in bed. Very sweet." She carefully handed over the loaded tray. "Well, here, take this to him as well. Drinks and cold things. There should be plenty of food for both of you. Tell him that Tiffany says 'Hi.' And when he feels better, tell him to bring you to La Shuk. Everyone would love to meet you."

Crowley stood in the doorway a little stupidly with both hands full of food that he actually was going to eat. He watched the woman walk away. He was afraid he might drop something, so he carefully slid the drinks onto the top of a bookshelf. Then he carried the fragrant, warm bag back to the sitting area at the back of the shop. Aziraphale was already there, wearing a dressing gown. He had set two spindly round tables in front of the couch, and he took the bag, set it on of the tables and started to open it. Crowley stood and watched.

"Do remember to shut the door when you fetch the drinks," said Aziraphale. 

Crowley stood still, glancing towards the front of the shop, where the drinks and the mysterious containers were, and then looking longingly at the steaming bag, from which Aziraphale was removing little cardboard boxes. He found that he couldn't resolve to leave the room that had the bag of food. The bit of Aziraphale that was inside him and the Aziraphale that was in front of him both sighed. "I'll come with you to get the drinks," said the angel. He took Crowley by the elbow and steered him towards the front of the shop. 

Aziraphale carried the drinks back and set them on one of the trays. Crowley sat down on the couch. He stared at the little white boxes. They had complicated folds and wires on their tops. These kinds of boxes had been in his world for decades, but he now realized that he wasn't quite sure how they actually opened. He was inexplicably terrified that he might accidentally upset the tables and send the little boxes to the floor where they would burst open. He tucked his feet very carefully. He put his hands on his knees so that he couldn't possibly jostle anything. His nostrils flared. His mouth watered, even though he knew that the mouth of the body he was in could never taste the food. The little bit of Aziraphale inside him started to make little gentle sounds to soothe him. It stilled his shaking legs and helped him close his eyes while he waited. Aziraphale himself took his glasses off and then laid a hand on his thigh. 

"Stay right here. I've just got to grab some proper cutlery. One should never eat off of plastic. It ruins the flavor."


	2. Chapter 2

"Right," said Aziraphale. "How do you prefer to do this? Shall I finish unpacking first, or shall we do the switch first?" He set down the utensils and tilted his head and listened to the hesitant confusion inside of Crowley. Aziraphale sat down on the couch next to Crowley and put his hands on the demon's knees, pressing downward firmly. Inside of Crowley, the thrumming golden presence of the angel kept him still and forced him to take slow breaths. Finally Aziraphale made the decision.

"I'm going to pull you into my body now," said the angel. "Then we'll share my body for a few minutes before I leave. But not for too long. I want you to enjoy the food at the proper temperature."

Crowley nodded, and Aziraphale lifted one hand and put it behind the demon's head, and pulled him into a kiss. Crowley closed his eyes and parted his lips and felt the slightest brush on them, and then he felt the pull. It was stronger and faster than it had been the other times. He was being pulled away from his body and falling through emptiness. Before Crowley could feel fear, his soul tasted the warm safe golden soul of his angel. He landed and sunk into it, like falling into a heated feather bed. This was so much more than the little spark of angel soul that he'd carried in his body for the last half hour. This was all encompassing bliss. This was a complete universe of love. 

Crowley's soul writhed in the quiet ecstasy of being loved, and Aziraphale encompassed him and waited for him to be ready for the next step. As was their usual way, Aziraphale spoke out loud and listened in his mind for the demon's answers. It was several minutes before Crowley could be articulate. 

"Can you be ready now, my dear?"

_What if you stayed, and we eat together in the same body?_

"Not yet darling. We will soon, I promise."

_Please._

"I know you trust me. I am going to give you a wonderful experience. Are you ready?"

_What about if you leave a little bit of yourself? Just like before? _

"A little piece," agreed the angel, "Otherwise I'll see double and I might start knocking things over."

_Agreed. I'm ready. Do it._

Aziraphale felt Crowley brace himself for the worst part of the switch. Leaving Crowley was difficult for both of them because the demon's soul cried out at every bit of loss as they separated. Pulling his soul out of the demon's was a lot like pulling a boot out of the mud when you'd stepped in it up to your ankle. It had to be done with firm resolution. 

Aziraphale pulled away from his own body and pushed himself into Crowley's body, homing in on the tiny spark of his own soul that he sent in earlier to wake the demon. He spread out in the demon's body, pushing his awareness out to limbs and face. As he had promised, Aziraphale left a tiny bit of himself behind in his own body to keep his poor demon from feeling alone, and he kept some of his attention there, radiating soothing feelings into the twisted and dark coils of Crowley's soul. 

When Aziraphale opened his eyes, he was gratified to see that Crowley was barely even trembling. The demon was looking at him with wide blue eyes, and the manicured hands of his borrowed body shaking only slightly where they still rested on the slender legs of Crowley's body. Aziraphale rested his hands on top of Crowley's to help settle him. 

"Thank you Angel." 

Aziraphale unfolded his long limbs and reached down to pick up the box of drinks and cold dips. Through his connection to Crowley, he could feel the demon's heart jump with every move he made. He arranged the food containers on top of the table, and he put the drinks down on the floor. Crowley was leaning forward, his mouth open and a little bit of drool starting to form at the corners of his mouth. Aziraphale handed him a paper napkin in hopes that he would pat at his lips, but he merely took it and started twisting it in his lap. 

The angel took the lid off of the first container and then the second. He stacked the lids neatly, face up, on the flattened bag on the floor and then opened the next container and positioned it carefully on one of the little tables. 

"What's that?", asked Crowley "I didn't see what was in it."

"Almost there darling. I need to open everything. Nearly there now."

A very long minute later, Aziraphale surveyed the spread with satisfaction. "This is a baba ganoush and a warm hummus dip with mashed garlic, and they've completely pureed the garlic, how thoughtful. This is the Moroccan style carrot soup, with the house yogurt on the side. Hmmmmm....I didn't order the taro or the pita crisps. This is a nice banana date smoothie in case anything is too spicy for you. Here's the lime soda. And..."

"If you don't give me something to eat right now, I am going to lose my mind," said Crowley. 

"Carrot soup, coming up!" Aziraphale carefully scooped up a precise amount of yogurt, placed it artistically in the exact middle of the cardboard soup bowl, then picked up a fresh soup spoon, slid it along the edge of the container and filled it with the soup. Then, as he lifted the spoon, he scooped up a tiny bit of the yogurt with the tip of the spoon. He held the spoon in front of his own lips and blew on it, while the demon borrowing his body whined in anticipation. When Aziraphale was satisfied with the temperature, he brought the spoon to Crowley's mouth and carefully put the spoonful in, tipping it up as he pulled it out so that Crowley's upper lip would sweep the spoon clean. 

Crowley's eyes rolled backward. His jaw went slightly slack behind his closed lips. He moaned and moved his tongue around his mouth as he tilted his head from one side to another and then finally backward as the soup slipped down his throat. 

"The bright notes here are the carrots and the lemon juice," said Aziraphale, as he prepared the next spoonful. "Sweetness comes primarily from the sauteed onions and the carrots of course but there is also a touch of honey. Whereas the dark spicy flavors--"

"Just. More." 

Aziraphale served the second spoonful and watched in silence as Crowley savored. He could use the distant piece of his soul to feel Crowley's surprise and joy as each spoonful unfolded its flavors. If he concentrated he could almost taste it, and his memory supplied the sensations that must match the little ripples of muscle movement around Crowley's eyes and jaw. There was the hot temperature of the soup contrasted with the cool of the yogurt, and the slightly grainy texture of the ground carrots contrasted with the smoothness of the yogurt. There were the deep earthy spiciness of the cumin and allspice dancing on top of the acidic sweetness of the carrots and the mellow caramelly sweetness of the onions. The yogurt would add a rich satisfying fat that would keep the acidic notes of carrots and cumin from scorching the throat when swallowing. 

Crowley's eyes were overflowing with grateful tears as he opened his mouth to receive the third spoonful. The demon reached blindly to take Aziraphale's free hand as he rolled the soup around his mouth. He squeezed two of Aziraphale's fingers as he swallowed and then made a small breathy noise. 

"Fuck. How is it so good?"

"More?", said Aziraphale, holding out the next spoonful.

"Yes."

Crowley closed his watery blue eyes and opened his mouth again. 

Aziraphale smiled at the flickers of surprise and pleasure that flitted across his own face as Crowley experienced eating in his body. Aziraphale knew that each different way of moving the angelic tongue would unlock a slightly different cascade of flavors. He had his own favorite way of rolling this particular soup around in his mouth to catch all the nuances, and he was avidly watching the little muscle movements of his own body's jaw and cheeks as Crowley experimented. The angel was beginning to understand why Crowley had enjoyed taking him out to dinner just to watch him eat.

After ten bites of soup, Aziraphale judged that it was time for Crowley to have a drink. He picked up the lime soda, removed the plastic lid, tossed it to the floor with prejudice, and poured the drink into a clean glass (leaving an inch between the top of the beverage and the lip) before handing it to Crowley. Crowley drank a few sips and handed it back. He leaned back and rested his head on the back of the couch. 

"This drink I've had before," said Crowley. "It tastes different when it's after food, though. It's stronger." Crowley took Aziraphale's hand again and squeezed it. 

"Can I wipe your face?" 

Crowley nodded and turned his face toward his angel. Aziraphale used a cloth to mop the tears from the cheeks of his own body's face. He delicately wiped the bits of orange soup that had leaked out of the corners of his own pink lips. Then he leaned up against his own body and placed his free hand onto his own broad chest. It was very comfortable. But the cuddle only lasted about ten seconds.

"I'm ready for the next one," said Crowley. 

They worked their way through a few bites of everything and then went back to the soup. This time, Crowley was able to at least half-listen to Aziraphale's descriptions of the ingredients and the preparation methods. His emotions had settled down and he was able to keep his eyes open more of the time. He was starting to be able to guess at which scents went with which flavors and which words. He still needed to take a break every three or four bites to swear softly in appreciation. 

Aziraphale's sense of taste was far superior to any human's, both because he was more sensitive and because his was, perforce, the most educated palate on the planet. With this particular carrot soup, which he had enjoyed dozens of times, Aziraphale could tell from the first bite if the wrong butter had been used in sauteing the onions, or if the carrots were not the special sweet North African Muscade carrots preferred by the chef. In time, the angel hoped to educate Crowley to appreciate food as he did. That was one of the reasons that it was so important to him that his beloved demon would get nothing but the best in his first week of eating. Aziraphale had made sure to confirm that the Muscade carrots were in stock before he'd placed his order. 

As Crowley got more confident, he took the spoon from Aziraphale and started to feed himself. Shortly thereafter he began to experiment. First, he simply tried the soup without the yogurt. Then he tried the yogurt without the soup, plunging his eating spoon directly into the yogurt container and earning a scandalized groan from Aziraphale. A look of inspiration flitted across the demon's face and he reached past the angel to grab an empty lid from the floor and put it up on the table. Then he scooped a spoonful of the hummus into the lid, mixed a spoonful of yogurt into it and tried them together. Next, he took a scoop of hummus and mixed it into the dregs of his soup. He liked the way this thinned out the hummus and made it easier to swallow, and he told Aziraphale so with evident pride. There were lemon wedges, and he squirted one onto a fresh lid and then took a scoop of the baba ganoush and mixed it in with the lemon. 

"Crowley, that is disgusting!"

"How do I know till I try it?" 

The more theatrically Aziraphale flinched and moaned at his experiments, the more gleeful Crowley became. Some of the combinations were pretty good, some were merely interesting. The only bad one was roasted garlic with banana smoothie. And once he drank enough smoothie, the bad taste went away. Eventually, Crowley remembered the pita crisps. He made Aziraphale empty the bag of them onto one of the tables. Then, still wary of chewing, he picked one up and slurped his tongue up the front of it. "This tastes like tears!" he said. "Or skin on a hot night! Well less musky, purer flavor, really good."

"It's just salt!", said Aziraphale. He started to laugh, despite himself. Crowley tossed the first soggy licked crisp into his empty soup bowl and grabbed another one. He slowly worked his way through the crisps and rhapsodized. 

"Salt is amazing! Remember all the wars they used to fight over this stuff? I'd fight a war to get this. Give us another one." Aziraphale tossed him a crisp, but between having no athletic ability and being in the wrong body, he managed to toss it onto the floor, where it broke. 

Aziraphale wrapped his arms around Crowley before he could make a move towards it. "You will NOT eat off the floor like an animal! Especially with my body!"

Crowley squirmed and fought back, but not hard enough to break Azriaphale's grip. "You broke my crisp; You owe me some salt!" 

Aziraphale did his best to roll his snake-like eyes and then handed over a tiny paper packet of salt. Crowley took it and then lit up with mischievous glee. 

"Hold out your wrist, Angel."

Crowley took Aziraphale's hand and very carefully poured the salt onto the inside of the angel's wrist. Then he lowered his lips and he slowly sucked up the salt. He smiled, not breaking eye contact, picked up his lime soda and slowly drank a sip. Then he kissed Aziraphale on the lips.

"That was as good as I hoped it would be," said Crowley. "Don't even need the Tequila. How many of those salt packets do we have?"

It transpired that Aziraphale had about a dozen packets of salt stuffed in the bottom of a drawer, and Crowley found a tender patch of skin to eat each and every one of them off of.


End file.
